A Slightly Different and Disturbing Lang Syne
by Bbe-with-the-Power
Summary: The start to Harry and Hermione's Christmas romances. Harry's back from an Auror mission just in time for Christmas Eve and he has to make a quick trip to the grocery store. post-DH, Christmas, canon-compliant excluding the Epilogue-That-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned and some Pottermore, same AU as my other HP X-mas fics, Harmony, no Weasley-bashing, Merry Christmas!


**A Slightly Different and Disturbing Lang Syne**

 **Some Quick Housekeeping...**

1\. I realize that I haven't been active here for like a year and a half or so. So, I'm sorry about that. Like, I didn't post this last year as planned, but of course, it wasn't finished. Speaking of, I understand that things in this one aren't as concrete or such as past fics I've posted; it's pretty rushed.

2\. On the state of _Here's Looking at You, Kid_ : I plan to finish it, but I won't publish it until I've finished all of it. It's about half-finished as published, so I've got another three chapters to do. I'm also going to rebrand it as _Everybody Comes to Harry's_ , like the title of the play that _Casablanca_ was based on. I realize that I haven't updated it since like August of 2017, but I haven't had the time, motivation, you name it. I promise that it will be completed and posted at some point in the future.

3\. While this fic goes along within the same AU that my other Christmas fics are in, it's also part of something larger. I have the beginnings of a multi-chapter length fic about some of Harry's Auror cases and this would serve as the prologue to that. I don't know when that'll be done or if it'll ever come to fruition, but it is in the works. In addition, this fic is based on Dan Fogelberg's "Same Auld Lang Syne" (1981) and I've tried to stay pretty true to the lyrics. Of course, I had to take a few liberties to match with existing stories in-universe. Still, I hope you find it acceptable.

Merry Christmas!

* * *

Harry Potter was exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted. He couldn't keep from yawning and his limbs felt heavy. However, he was not at liberty to kip. No, Harry had just once again made headlines and was currently being surrounded by flashing cameras, Quick-Quotes-Quills, and a never-ending stream of incoherent questions. Or at least, what his mind assumed were questions; in his brain-addled state, he couldn't really be sure. He was grateful that his boss, Gawain Robards, was personally leading him down the hall and kept the reporters at bay.

He had just returned from an extended mission in Thailand that involved a Welsh wizard and a particularly ravenous Lethifold. It wasn't his first successful case as an Auror, but it was his first successful case leading a team. And of course, because he was Harry Potter, the whole affair was highly publicized.

Robards led him past the Improper Use of Magic Office and the Wizengamot Administration Services to the Auror Headquarters. Though the reporters were barred from this area, the noise did anything but decrease as Harry was then surrounded by many yells of "Job well done!" and "Congratulations!". The pair made their way through the labyrinth of cubicles to the Head Auror's office at the back.

"Sir," Harry began as Robards closed the office door behind them, "No offense, but I would really like to go home. I've already been debriefed, and I swear I'll submit my reports—"

"I understand completely. Take a seat, won't you?" He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Robards' office was oak-paneled and had a distinct air of tradition. His desk was quite orderly and there seemed to be nothing out of place.

Harry did as he was asked then waited as Robards himself sat down. "Harry, you're not in trouble, complete opposite actually. And we both know that I don't usually invite every successful team leader back here afterwards."

"Then why—?"

"Then why have I commandeered you on Christmas Eve when I'm sure you'd like nothing more than to be at home?" Harry nodded. "Well, that's exactly what I plan to let you do. I just thought you'd like to use my Floo. You'll have more privacy."

"Um, well…thanks," Harry finished lamely, searching for a way to express his gratitude. He rose from the seat and made his way behind the desk towards the fireplace. He reached for the bowl of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the blazing fire. "You're sure I can just go?"

Robards leaned against his desk, "That's why you're here. Now, have a Merry Christmas and be on your way, lad."

Harry stepped into the fireplace, feeling the familiar tickling as green tendrils curled about his legs. "My report will be on your desk, first thing Monday morning." Robards just nodded. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!" As an afterthought, Harry hastily added a "Merry Christmas, sir!" to his boss before closing his eyes and trying to ignore the headache-inducing spinning sensation that came as a packaged deal with the mode of transportation.

Stumbling out of the fireplace, Harry coughed, trying to rid himself of some soot that had inevitably found itself in his respiratory system. It'd been twelve years since he first used Floo powder, but he still found himself having complications in transit.

Having been in Thailand for over a month, Harry hadn't had the time to decorate his late godfather's former home. Yet, one look around the living room, and it was clear to him that Kreacher had taken it upon himself to attempt just that in Harry's absence. Despite having been freed and under Harry's employ for five years, Kreacher never lost his eccentric habits, much less his style of interior design.

Where Harry would've placed a tall, healthy Norway spruce, there was something small, stunted, and so close to death that the remaining needles were tenuously attached to drooping branches. It looked as if one haphazard breath could knock the pitiful thing to the floor. And instead of baubles or lights, it was covered in the strangest assortment of knickknacks that Harry assumed were usually housed in Kreacher's private hoard and dead rodents. Where there ought to have been garlands, spiderwebs hung from the ceiling. There were even old, ratty socks that were stuck to the mantle (Harry felt one on his head as he stepped out of the fireplace), a crowd of mismatched cardboard boxes in various states of ruin, and complete with a foul stench emanating from the dead rats on the "tree."

As awful as the décor looked and smelled, Harry couldn't help but feel a little appreciative of Kreacher's efforts. Harry would have to be sure to dig up an old Black family heirloom to give him as a gift.

At the moment, Harry felt the overwhelming urge to take a bath. He hadn't had a shower in several days and after being in Thailand's humid climate, his shirt clung to him uncomfortably. He toed off his Oxfords and hung his trench coat and fedora on the coat stand beside the front door. He climbed the stairs slowly, exhausted from the last thirty-six hours.

After a nice, long soak in the tub, Harry toweled off and pulled one of Mrs. Weasley's knitted jumpers over his head. As he looked in the mirror at the golden "H" that graced his front, he thought of the Weasley clan. He hadn't told anyone outside of the Auror department of his return. Nevertheless, he was expected at the Burrow tomorrow for Christmas dinner and presents. Still, he was anxious about seeing Ginny again.

He and Ginny had been dating for five years, but they had seemed to lose their spark. They hardly saw each other between their busy schedules—Harry on Auror cases and Ginny at games and practices for the Holyhead Harpies. Harry remembered how they could hardly keep their hands off each other in the early years, but the last time he had seen her, he had felt off after only kissing her once.

Harry still thought she was incredibly pretty, but maybe they weren't destined to be together as so many had thought. There were many times when he and Ginny would be somewhere minding their own business only to be told that they resembled the late James and Lily Potter. Well, that was all nice and fine, but should he stay with Ginny just because it fit? Maybe. It would certainly make Mrs. Weasley happy. On the other hand, he wasn't even sure what Ginny wanted. They hardly talked anymore, especially on the state of their relationship.

Going on missions gave Harry a break from his normal life in Britain. It gave him an excuse to get away from problems such as these, to which he had yet to find a solution. But after being on the other side of the globe for a month, it was time to reconnect.

He padded to the kitchen in his socks, the pangs of hunger catching up with him. "Kreacher!" he called out. Up until then, he hadn't seen any sign of the house elf.

With a pop, Kreacher appeared before him. "Good evening! What can Kreacher do for Master?"

"Kreacher, what do we have to eat? I'm half-starved."

"Master has been gone for so long and Kreacher had no warning of Master's arrival that Kreacher hasn't prepared anything for Master's homecoming."

Harry quickly tossed the idea of eating anything that may have been kept while he was out of the country. "Uh, that's fine Kreacher. I'll just pop over to the shop then and pick something up."

"Kreacher can fetch Master's food if Master wishes to stay and relax," the house elf offered.

"That's alright, Kreacher. I'll go." Harry didn't exactly want to sit around Grimmauld Place and wait for food to be brought to him. Getting it himself would temporarily distract him from his hunger.

"As Master wishes," Kreacher said with a bow before disappearing with a pop.

Harry slipped on the pair of boots he had worn during the Horcrux hunt and donned a heavy coat. He made sure he had his wand before exiting onto empty London street.

It wasn't far to the nearest grocery mart; it had to only be a few blocks. The street was dark, lit only by the occasional flickering street lamp, but Harry didn't feel unsafe for a moment. The street was so empty, he could hear everything from the snow crunching under his boots to soft strains from popular carols drifting down from the open windows of his neighbors' homes. He tugged on the ends of his coat, trying to wrap himself even more tightly in the heavy material in an effort to fight off the chill that caused snowflakes to land against the lenses of his glasses.

Soon enough, he passed into the grocery mart's parking lot. There were a few cars, seven at the most. They most likely belonged to patrons who were doing last-minute shopping for Christmas dinner.

 _Just like me_ , Harry thought.

He stepped into the shop as the automatic doors closed behind him. It was quiet here too, despite the occasional _Ping!_ from the teller machines and the speakers playing a faint "Jingle Bell Rock."

Harry wanted something easy to prepare. It was Christmas Eve night: he wasn't going to force Kreacher to make his food when he returned to Grimmauld Place. The soles of his shoes tiredly scuffed the floor as he made his way to the frozen food section. He looked around, glancing at packages of frozen peas and carrots to microwavable pasta dishes. However, it wasn't any food that caught his eye next.

A woman stood with her back to him, gazing concentratedly at the selection before her. Harry knew her long, brown, bushy hair anywhere. Not wanting to scare her, he reached out and touched her on the sleeve.

She jumped in surprise and turned around. Her eyes went straight to the hand that had touched her before traveling up to the face before her. Her eyes flew open wide. "Harry!" she cried as she threw her arms around him. In her haste, her purse caught on the handle one of the freezer doors and the contents spilled out.

"Hermione," Harry started as he pointed to her fallen belongings.

She pulled away and looked at the floor. They both started snickering and before long, they were laughing so hard that tears peppered their eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she said as she gathered her things back into her purse, "when did you get back? Why didn't you tell any us that you were back?"

"I got back to Grimmauld Place two hours ago. It's been a long couple of days."

They each started picking out a few packages and trays from the freezer.

"You were where again?"

"Thailand. We were called in to dispatch of an especially nasty Lethifold."

"You were there for a month. What could you possibly have been doing in all that time?"

"Why? Think you could've caught it faster?"

There was a twinkling in her eyes and a small smirk graced the right corner of her mouth. "Well…" she trailed off insinuatingly. "It's just that it sounds like you had a nice holiday in the tropics, that's all."

His arm snaked around her waist. "To your credit, I'm sure that I'd have only been there half the time if you were with me. Minimal casualties, though." He was so close that he could smell her hair. It was wonderfully fragrant. She smelled, well, like Hermione, but with a hint of something fresh, like apples.

They made their way to the checkout stand. He realized his hand was still around her waist and quickly withdrew it, so she could access her purse. However, for a fraction of a second, he thought he saw a blush creep onto her cheeks at the loss of contact. They said nothing as the food was totaled up and bagged.

They trundled out into the cold where they were met with a flurry of snow. They made their way to Hermione's car in the lot. There were even fewer cars there now than when Harry first arrived. As they securely packed the bags in the boot, Harry looked over at Hermione. A couple of snowflakes had graced her nose and eyelashes. He couldn't help but feel that she looked incredibly pretty.

She caught him staring just as he turned his gaze away. Her cheeks had a pink tinge to them, whether from the cold or embarrassment, Harry wasn't entirely sure.

"Uh, let me take you to a pub!" Harry said suddenly. Noticing her confused expression, he added, "I mean, I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow, but I haven't had time to fully catch up with you yet."

"Alright," she agreed.

They got into her car and drove around of a bit trying to look for some place that wasn't too crowded or noisy. The point was to talk, after all. They drove around for half an hour before giving up. Of the only open pubs in the area, one was overcrowded, complete with patrons and electronic beats spilling out into the street. The other looked so shady, Harry didn't want Hermione anywhere near it.

"I've an idea," he said. "If you go back to the grocery mart, down about two blocks is Petey's." At her confused expression, he added, "It's a liquor store."

She drove back and parked in the lot. Petey's was located in an old strip mall. The rest of the shops were closed, but there Petey's was with its flickering OPEN lights.

"I'll just be a minute," he said as he got out and closed the car door.

As he went in, he heard a bell tinkle as it hit the door. He gave a short nod to the old, balding man behind the counter. Harry strode over to the ales aisle and picked up a six-pack of Fat Tire.

He pulled a few quid out of his wallet and handed it to Petey. "Keep the change," he said as he stuffed the receipt into his pocket. "Merry Christmas!" Harry called out, the bell tinkling as he opened the door again.

He knocked on the car door before opening it and clambering in, trying to escape the cold.

"How much do I owe you?"

"You don't owe me a thing. I was buying for you, remember?" As he looked at her, he thought she looked different than she did a few minutes ago. Her hair looked less bushy and more bouncy. And was that lipstick?

He pulled two cans off the plastic rings holding the six-pack together. He handed her one and flipped the tab on his own.

"Cheers!" he said as he hit his can against hers.

"To what?" she asked, trying to hold back a chuckle.

"To innocence or whatever. To sitting here with you right now." That chuckle escaped her lips as they knocked back a swig of the ale. He'd known her for thirteen years, but in all that time, they'd never sat through such an awkward silence.

"So, how're things between you and Ron?" Harry offered.

Her eyes went wide for a second before returning to normal size. She looked as if she was about to lie but decided against it. Harry always knew when she wasn't telling the truth. "We've been having a row again," she admitted.

"What happened this time?" he asked with a sigh.

Her brow creased slightly at this. And then her expression softened as she looked over at Harry, who took another gulp of his beer. "Nothing important. Sometimes I come home from work and he's gone through my entire fridge." Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. "It's not funny, Harry," she said dejectedly. "The last couple of times we've tried to patch things up, we've argued about one thing or another."

"I'm sorry," he said, refusing to meet her eyes. "I know it's hardly any of my business, but Hermione, do you want to spend the rest of your life with Ron?"

She looked at him in surprise, shocked he'd dare to say such a thing. "What? Well of course I—well, I mean that—oh, well…"

"I'm only asking because I've honestly thought the same thing," he interjected quickly. "Look, things haven't been so great between me and Ginny."

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry, Harry." She paused after drinking more of her ale. "I'll be honest, Harry, I don't think I can stay with Ron that much longer. I love him, you know I do. I'm just not _in_ love with him anymore, that's all. You'd think that someone as smart as me would realize that all those arguments we had as children would mean something for our future," she finished.

They sat in silence for a few moments as Harry opened a new can. "I've got to say, you look really good, Hermione."

"Harry—"

"No, I mean it," he cut in. "I haven't seen you for at least a couple of months and you're prettier than I remember." They both blushed. "I mean, your eyes are just as brown as I remember. Well, I mean, I…" he flustered. He was sure his ears were as red as any Weasley's hair. He looked at her then, and he couldn't be sure if it was doubt or gratitude in the eyes he'd just complimented.

She looked away awkwardly and drank the last sip in her can before reaching for a new one. "You never finished telling me about your case," she said, hastily trying to change the subject.

"Ah, right! So, this is the first case where Robards named me team leader. I had Liu, Bergin, O'Shaughnessy, and Baumbach with me. We had received word from the Thai ministry that someone carrying identification from our Department of International Magical Cooperation had been attacked and eaten by a Lethifold. We had to look into his murder and the capture of said Lethifold. Poor bloke was probably on holiday.

"The real issue was finding the Lethifold. We had a damned hard time trying to track it; we never knew where it would strike next. Liu, Bergin, and Baumbach were on surveillance. You see, it's not like a Lethifold feeds every night. We had to wait several nights just to get wind of a perceived attack. And when it did, we'd get there in time to save the victim, but the damned thing would fly off just as we closed in."

"What did you and O'Shaughnessy do if the others were on surveillance?"

"We ran PR, filed a few reports, did research, strategized. A lot of things you'd be good at."

"I have been reading _The Prophet_." She sighed. "They seem to be on your side again. A few of the back pages had run articles on your case, said you'd been doing well. Still, I think a month is quite a long time to chase one Lethifold."

"I thought I said you'd be better than me at a lot of it." He couldn't help but smile at her. He downed the last of his ale. "You know, I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't an Auror."

Hermione scoffed. "That's easy. You'd be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." She finished the rest of her can. "Though, you would be an amazing professional Quidditch player," she mused.

"You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought."

"Not really; I just know what you're good at. I mean, name one thing that you really enjoy about being an Auror and something that's awful."

"Well, you know just as well as I that catching dark wizards is my specialty." She rolled her eyes. It was the same "Chosen One" stuff he used to joke about back in school. "But, I do have to say that the traveling is hell, especially abroad. I have to keep all these papers on me that say I can stay in the country. And stakeouts usually aren't fun, but they're infinitely worse during the winter."

"Exactly," she said matter-of-factly. "A lot of the things you like about being an Auror—fighting your opponent, the strategy—are present in teaching, just with less of the pulse-quickening thrill. If you were teaching, it'd be more of a great joy that a student understands the material than the rush of capturing a dark wizard. Plus, there isn't any traveling and you wouldn't have to do any stakeouts."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "Are you trying to get me to quit my job and apply at Hogwarts?"

"No, I just think you'd fit in well there. Maybe you could teach after you retire or something…" she trailed off.

Harry looked down at his lap. There were only two cans left on the rings. He held one up to her. "Want to finish them off?"

Hermione shrugged. "Alright," she said, taking one and flipping the tab.

Harry raised his can to hers. "To time." Now it was her turn to look puzzled. "Hermione, no matter what happens, you're going to be part of the rest of my life. You've been a huge part of my past, you're here in my present, and I'll be damned if you aren't in my future," he offered in explanation.

"Harry, it's a week too early to start singing 'Auld Lang Syne,'" she joked, but nevertheless accepted the toast.

They sat drinking the rest of the ale. Though once easy, their conversation now bordered on strained. There was some small talk here and there, mixed amidst the silence.

Harry thought things seemed incredibly different between them since the last time they had met, but he couldn't place his finger on it. It probably had to do with small things he seemed to be noticing left and right about Hermione tonight. Like the way her hair framed her face after throwing her head back in laughter or how she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel when neither of them uttered a syllable.

He had finished his last can and was feeling particularly tired. They practically ran out of things to say and he realized too late that Hermione had caught him staring at her lips—he had decided that she was indeed wearing lipstick and that it was a rather lovely shade for her. Her ears tinged pink at his attention.

"Harry, it's getting pretty late. I think I'll drop you back at Grimmauld Place before I head back to my flat," she decided.

"Are you alright to drive?"

"Well, you're no less impaired than I am. But you are right." She pulled out her wand and muttered an incantation that Harry recognized as one that briefly wards off the effects of grogginess.

She started up the engine and buckled her seat belt, waiting for Harry to do the same. She then pulled out of the parking lot and drove towards Grimmauld Place. When they reached their destination, Harry retrieved his frozen goods.

He turned towards her in his seat, preparing to say goodbye. Before he could lift his arms to embrace her, she leaned towards him. Perhaps she only intended to kiss his cheek, but she had inadvertently caught his lips with hers.

Her lips were warm, soft, and strong as they pushed against his. He was finally close enough to smell her hair again. He felt a tingling sensation in the base of his stomach and where his lips met Hermione's. Though he didn't act on it, he felt an overwhelming urge to reach one hand into her hair and the other around her waist, so as to pull her close. Still, something just felt…right.

When she pulled away, Harry tried to meet her beautiful brown eyes, which he realized really were beautiful. She had, however, lowered her own gaze and her ears were a bright red.

Without looking at him, she shifted from Park to Drive and merely said, "I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow, then, right?"

"Yeah, of course," he replied as he exited her car. "Merry Christmas, Hermione," he said as he slammed the door shut.

He watched her drive away and the tingling in his stomach vanished rapidly. He kept his eye on her car until it was a speck on the horizon. In that moment, standing in a light snow in front of Grimmauld Place, he felt as if he were back at school. He could see her descending the Great Staircase in her dress robes. He could almost feel her hand clutching his as they prepared to take flight on Buckbeak's back. She was with him throughout his greatest adventures.

Then, something unexpected happened. He felt his heart squeeze when he imagined being at the Burrow tomorrow and seeing her holding Ron's hand instead of his. He ought to have been happy; he'd been happy for them in the past.

He turned around to face his front door and the strangest thing happened. Where he had been gently bombarded with snowflakes, he felt large, heavy pelts of rain. Later, he would conclude that he had been performing accidental magic.

But as he stepped up the landing, a thought occurred to him that would forever change his life. He realized with a start:

 _Oh my God! I'm in love with Hermione Granger!_

To Be Continued…

* * *

About the title: What a disturbing thought that Harry's got feelings for Hermione! Considering that he hasn't allowed himself to feel certain things for Hermione, it's different from their other interactions in the past. "Auld Lang Syne" is about time and old times sake and all that jazz. As such, it's different and maybe just a little disturbing to the way that things have been.

I just wanted to clear up what I thought about when I originally wrote the title.

9


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